


Run to Your Shelter Tonight

by HollyJolly



Category: Final Fantasy XV
Genre: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Historical, Alternate Universe - Western, Bandits & Outlaws, M/M, Outlaw Ardyn Izunia, Saloon, Saloon Owner Verstael, Western AU, Wild West
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-02
Updated: 2019-05-02
Packaged: 2020-02-15 22:11:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,600
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18678349
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HollyJolly/pseuds/HollyJolly
Summary: A tired saloon owner, Verstael is looking forward to when he can kick out the last drunken fool and end the day. A stranger seeks his special services however. And they come to a dangerous agreement.





	Run to Your Shelter Tonight

**Author's Note:**

> An AU months in the making. I swear this isn't inspired by RDR2; I don't know anything about that series besides horsies and old town roads. It purely came out of the fantasy of Verstael in sleeve garters and Ardyn in cowboy attire (thank you Episode Ardyn for indulging me).
> 
> Enjoy~!

It's a slow night. Verstael doesn't mind all that much. It just means there's less chance for brutes, drunks, and the  _ lovely _ combination of the two to start fights on his property. Those always caused more trouble than entertainment. Having to deal with the repercussions of such things were never fun for anybody but the spectators who didn't have to replace damaged goods. And he wasn't interested in bringing out the shotgun tonight. 

 

The platinum blond was quite alright with polishing the last of the glasses before kicking out the last homeless drunkard and turning it in. Quite alright indeed. So when a new man walked in, he rolled his eyes. How typical. Customers must've had a sixth sense for when things were slowing down for the day. Verstael just thanked his lucky stars that he hadn't shut down the tap just yet.

 

"Quite a charming, little cantina you have here, my good man."

 

Verstael glances at up at the stranger but doesn’t let himself linger too hard. It was quite hard not to though. As a businessman who saw much to do about everything in this small town, Verstael took small pride in knowing each and every bastard who traipsed through his door. Certainly helped in regards to remembering just who he needed to rough up to get the tap paid proper.

 

So not recognizing the stranger irked him.

 

The saloon owner had not a wink of who this man could be. Possible for it to be a new soul in town, a soul traveling through even. Would certainly explain why he had the nerve to come into his saloon at ungodly hours. Didn't help that the hat upon his person shadowed his face.

 

Verstael curses to himself and sets his glass down. "What does the gentleman want tonight? I will have to kick you out after first glass so don't get too comfortable."

 

The stranger smirks and sits himself down at a worn out stool. "I've actually come seeking other necessities." 

 

Certainly not the first odd request he’s heard. Not even the first for the day.

 

“If you come looking for a woman then you are out of luck. They’re gone for the night.” Verstael takes this moment to make eye contact with the last idiot lingering at an empty table. “As should you be.” The meaning isn’t lost and the bloke stumbles out, tossing his change on the table in a rush. But the stranger doesn’t move an inch.

 

“No, no, I’ve not come looking for sexual pleasantries.” The mysterious stranger gave a husky laugh. “No, not right now. I’ve come to inquire about lodgings for a night or two. Perhaps more if my luck has not quite dried up.” The man finally takes his hat off and places it on the counter and it’s the first time the blond can take a good look at him. Auburn hair, rough in layers down to his shoulders. Tanned skin prickled with stubble along his lower face. Amber eyes that glow with something hidden beneath them.

 

He has danger written all over him. Verstael knows that face and it doesn’t take long for him to realize just how these features are familiar to him. If he glances past the man, he can see a torn up, weathered parchment on the post of his door. An old wanted poster nailed up long ago.

 

Ardyn “Adagium” Izunia: Outlaw wanted for murder and many other things that just don’t fit on a meager piece of paper. There’s a reward on his head, dead or alive. Nobody has gone to hunt the man and come back with any kind of story. Or come back at all to be brutally honest.

 

Verstael feels for the shotgun close by, beneath the counter. Always there just for the instances where shooting a hole in his roof to spook a few drunks and alerting the authorities was the only solution. He’s never been happier to have it so at hand. If not for his life but his financial safety, and to claim that reward money for his own pockets. Getting this outlaw out of his hair for the night was just a bonus.

 

“And why should I be the one to point you in the right direction?” The saloon owner keeps his hand on the handle of his weapon as he watched the outlaw with a keen eye. “Way I see it, I would just be leading you straight to the folk who would take your head for themselves.”  
  
Ardyn chuckles lowly and fiddles with the belt on his hip. Verstael noticed it when he came in but it’s never been of worry till now. About everybody had a piece on hand. But not everybody was a hardened criminal. 

 

“Cause I’m not looking for any kind of bed. I’ve come searching just for yours.”

 

That has him curious. And flustered, Verstael hates to admit. Propositioning him of all things? Ghastly man indeed. And to fall for it as well? What did that make him? The blonde keeps his thoughts at bay, keeping a look of professional disinterest. 

 

“And what reason would that be? One of my more idiotic regulars peg you down to clear away their debt with me? Their debt will still be there come morning when my blood is dried.” It’s true. His leading lady of the saloon has full access to the legal workings and one would learn not to mess with Miss Highwind. “So I would not waste your bullets on me.”

 

“I’ve come not on a job. I am quite sincere when I say I need a bed. And I would hope a man of your caliber would understand.” Ardyn has his elbow on the counter now, leaning in much closer than need be now that they are alone. It’s threatening, plain as that. And while he won’t show it, the outlaw is doing quite a decent job at it, his tall and lean stature aiding him quite nicely.

 

“My caliber…” Verstael grits out. “As a humble saloon man?”

 

“No, no. I mean as a fellow man avoiding the law.”

 

A pregnant pause. A creak of floor boards as the building settles. Verstael feels his blood go as cold as the pipes in the winter. And his shock must show because the auburn man is smirking like he just won a game of cards.

 

“That poor, poor town fifty miles yonder. The one that seemed to turn into a ghost town overnight.” Ardyn fiddles with a toothpick left out on the bar. Verstael watches him with unblinking eyes. “No survivors and no evidence that a single weapon was drawn. A real mystery that one.” Verstael is transfixed on his words and the meager toothpick at the mercy of the outlaw’s fingers, watching it be toyed with gently.

 

“You were seen in that town not long before.” The toothpick snaps. “I wonder why.”

 

The saloon owner knows. It was true. The town of Keycatrich had use of his services long ago. A sickness that seemed to spread from home to home. Their doctor had succumbed to it as well. And Verstael Besithia was a man of medicine, to go along with his upkeep of his liquor business. A man who was known to be called when no one else could. 

 

For a fee of course. Or a list of favors that they would be expected to give once he sent men for collection. Sure, he could understand some tardiness. But that could happen only enough times before he grew sick of waiting. He was a businessman. And in business, one must face the consequences.

 

But he was usually so careful! Never by his own hand, by the gods never, but when it came to dealing the deadly duty, the saloon-doctor-gang boss would only trust his men to get the job done quickly and cleanly. Well, as clean as teaching a lesson can get. He’s got to have a word with his errand boys soon.

 

“What--” Verstael straightens himself and eyes the door just in case. “What is it that you needed again,  _ sir _ .”

 

Ardyn snickers. He places his hat on his chest, giving a teasing bow. “Why, only a safe place of lodging. For a night or two.” He shrugs. “Here and there.” His gaze is deadly as he locks it with violet spheres. “Whenever I call.”

 

Verstael knows it’s a dangerous gamble. Housing a highly sought out criminal like that? The effects of denying this man though could end in many ways. Could easily end with a shootout that attracts attention, grabbing the sheriff. And losing that potential sweet reward of his head. But there is also the pickling situation of being outed, locked up, and worked to the bone on the railway.

 

Or killed. Any situation besides obliging him could easily end up with a hole in his head. Not an option.

 

There’s not much a man can do in this situation. And it’s with that that Verstael hangs his head with his a release of held breath. Takes his hand off the shotgun and reaches for the good whiskey on the shelf behind him. 

 

“You should know coming to me is the equivalent of a business partnership,” Verstael explains sternly as he pours not one but two crystal glasses. “My facilities, your services. We only stand to mutually benefit from an agreement.” 

 

“I couldn’t think of a better way to come together, Mr. Besithia.”

 

Amber liquid sloshes as their glasses clink. As they down their burning pledges to one another. 

 

The west becomes so much more dangerous in that moment.

**Author's Note:**

> Got the horses in the back? Horse tack attached? Take your horse down to the old town twitter road at @HollyJollyPaca. We can retweet till we can't no more. ;D


End file.
